


Sickdays Day 3: Caretaking Focus

by occasionalspiderfiction (SemiRetiredAuthor), sickficlurker (SemiRetiredAuthor)



Series: Peter Needs a Spider-Sitter [3]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Concussions, Fluff, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Ned is Not a Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 17:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14430357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiRetiredAuthor/pseuds/occasionalspiderfiction, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiRetiredAuthor/pseuds/sickficlurker
Summary: Continuation of Some Regrets and Good Samaritan. Ned is there for his best friend, no matter what.





	Sickdays Day 3: Caretaking Focus

**Author's Note:**

> Theoretically, you could read this on its own, but it makes much more sense if you read the rest of Peter Needs a Spider-Sitter first.

Ned doesn’t have much trouble finding Peter downstairs. Sitting hunched as far into himself as he could get on the sidewalk two buildings to the left, he looks about as comfortable as Ned would expect with the bruises he’d seen. Ned helps him struggle to his feet when he’s close enough and wraps an arm loosely around his waist. Peter needs the support badly enough that he doesn’t protest the help even a little as they set off on the sidewalk.

His parents give him a two-hundred-dollar budget each week they spend out of town that’s meant for meals and going out with friends. It’s usually a good bit more than he needs considering his only friend is always too busy to do anything, but Ned takes a quiet moment to consider how lucky he is that his parents are so out of touch with the typical teenage budget. It leaves him plenty to call for a taxi instead of making his injured best friend walk the distance to his apartment. They wait until they’re a few more blocks away to avoid running into May before Ned adjusts his grip to help Peter sit on the edge of the sidewalk.

It’s only a few minutes before Ned is guiding a stumbling Peter into the seat of the taxi and helping him buckle his seatbelt. The driver looks almost concerned for all of three seconds before he apparently decides his customer’s weakness isn’t his problem. Peter tries to lean his head on Ned’s shoulder, but the distance is too far and Ned ends up shifting from the far-left seat into the middle to be close enough. Ned shares the address and waits for the cab to start moving before he pulls out his phone and begins frantically googling variations of the symptoms he knew Peter had.

Peter manages to lightly doze through the short ride, and by the time they arrive, Dr. Google has diagnosed Peter with bruised or fractured ribs and a concussion. Ned can’t help a worried frown until Peter pulls his head up as the driver brakes in front of his apartment. He forces as much of a smile as he can for Peter while he tugs out his wallet to pay the driver.

Ned has to support most of Peter’s weight through the short elevator ride that takes them to Ned’s floor. He catches Peter schooling his expression into something neutral, albeit poorly, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize what he’s doing.

“You’re good,” he says. “My parents are out for at least another few days.” He could never predict when they’d extend a trip, but his parents have a great track record of never making it back earlier than planned. Peter didn’t wait for further permission before dropping the fake expression. Ned grips him by the arm as they make their way to the front door and enter. He hesitates for a moment in the doorway as he decides how to proceed.

“Okay, first thing’s first. You need to clean up while I figure out what to do.”

It quickly becomes clear that Peter has no hopes of doing that on his own. It takes long enough for him to acknowledge the instruction, and even then, his attempted trip to the shower is rife with stumbling and falling against the nearest wall repeatedly until Ned leaps over to stop him from doing any more damage. He seems a little more mentally _there_ now, but it’s obvious he’s still physically too weak to handle himself.

“Scratch that, I guess.”

He guides his friend by the shoulders until he’s sitting next to the bathtub while Ned runs out of the room for just a second, pulling out his phone and frantically googling variations of, “HELP MY FRIEND HAS A CONCUSSION AND SO MANY BRUISES” before he slows down enough to think of better search terms to use. He reaches his room and turns off his screen, leaving it on a promising website he can look over while Peter’s occupied.

They’ve been friends forever, but Ned has yet to see his best friend naked and would be happiest never doing so, so he fishes a pair of his own swimming trunks from the back of his closet. He delivers them to the bathroom with little fanfare and helps Peter tie the knot as tightly as he can after giving him a minute to pull them on.

He guides Peter to his bathtub and hovers his hand around him as he clambers over the edge with a splash, ready to catch him if need be. He doesn’t think a bath is the _most_ hygienic way to clean up, but it seems better than having to support his friend through a shower when he can barely stand. He turns his attention back to his phone and lets Peter do what he can with his own uncoordinated hands, which works for a short while, but then he reaches the impressively large bruise—Ned does a double take when he realizes it’s darkened a _lot_ since he first saw it—and some of the larger patches of friction burn. He makes a few weak attempts but can’t stop himself from flinching away each time, so Ned slips the washcloth out of his grip and waits for the small, jerky nod before he takes over. A few tears trail down Peter’s face. Ned’s sure part of the bro code is not admitting you’ve seen your friend cry. He looks away and focuses on what he’s doing for the sake of Peter’s dignity. He feels guilty when he hears his friend hiss or gasp in pain a couple times, but he only hesitates for a few seconds before he barges on with renewed determination. This might hurt a little, but it was better than risking anything getting infected later on. He distracts him the rest of the time with idle chatter. It’s nothing of substance, but it’s enough to keep his mind off the pain to some degree.

He leaves Peter shivering in the draining bathtub while he runs to the linen closet. They have one set of basic towels his family uses normally, but he knows there are some softer, nicer-looking ones hidden away for when his parents invite friends and family to stay over. It takes longer than he thought to find one, and he returns with his prize to find Peter outright shaking in the now empty bath. He gives Peter some time to dry off while he takes inventory of the medicine cabinet.

They have painkillers—he sets those aside for later—and disinfectant, but not much else that seems useful in the moment. He grabs ahold of the towel and nudges at Peter until he lets go. Parts of it are coated in blood from—Ned looks more closely at Peter—the still sluggishly bleeding bump on his head. He sighs softly, knowing it’s probably not going to wash out; he’ll have to throw this towel away somewhere his mom will never find it or she’ll _freak_. It takes a moment after that to gather his resolution, but then he makes quick work of applying the disinfectant everywhere he can find scrapes and scratches. Peter, for his part, is more prepared for this pain because of course he must have done it dozens of times on his own, and he barely shows any sign of discomfort throughout the process.

Peter has trouble keeping his balance on the way to Ned’s room. Ned has to wrap an arm around his shoulders more than once to keep him from careening head-first into a wall. He sits Peter on his bed while he searches for clean clothes. Peter’s been over often enough to have forgotten plenty of clothes. It’s one of those things that seems like it would be annoying, but it actually comes in handy for times like this, when Peter unexpectedly decides to spend the night. There’s a plain blue sweatshirt and a pair of Peter’s jeans in one of his drawers. He grabs the sweater but deliberates on the jeans before grabbing a pair of his own sweatpants instead. They’ll be a little loose on Peter but a lot more comfortable than scratchy denim on his bruised and scratched skin.

Peter manages to pull on the boxers he came in and the sweatpants himself while Ned turns away to give him some sort of privacy. He can’t hold back a yelp that he muffles into his hand when he lifts his arms to try to pull the sweatshirt on. Ned jumps at the pained sound. He doesn’t waste time turning around and pulling the shirt out of Peter’s hands. He gives him some time to even out his shallow breathing and relax before he gently guides first one sleeve and then the other on and slowly pulls the shirt over Peter’s head. Peter offers a small smile when it’s over.

“Hard part’s over… I think,” Ned announces. “Now you get to lie on the couch while I figure out how to take care of this, unless you know…?” He trails off, but Peter shakes his head, then grimaces as that sets off more pain. With a little effort and a lot more work preventing Peter from accidentally bashing his head again, they make it to the couch where Ned helps Peter lay down slowly. He taps the internet app on his phone and taps back to the most promising websites, skimming them to get an idea of what to do.

“Okaaaay,” he drags out, mostly to fill the silence while he scrolls through the last of the articles he found. “This one says…” He pauses to read through everything first. “Right, okay! So, it says for now, you shouldn’t take ibuprofen—” Peter exaggerates a pained grimace. “—but it’s okay after two days!”

“We can get an ice pack for the swelling if you want it, and you should sleep sitting upright.” He rushes to help Peter move into a sitting position instead of lying on the couch. Peter doesn’t look enthused by the new position, but it’s for his own good. “Other than that, this basically says just breathe and cough normally even though you probably feel like avoiding it. Don’t look at me like that—I’ve heard you breathing weird the whole time I’ve been with you. You suck at hiding it. Oh, and walk around every once in a while. You’re supposed to get a lot of sleep, but I don’t know how that works with having a concussion at the same time…”

Peter looks dazed and just lets him summarize the internet’s advice uninterrupted. It’s a little worrying since Peter is normally excitable in conversations about anything and everything, but he realizes he’s never seen Peter seriously hurt before. He must see Ned looking at him expectantly because he finally answers.

“Umm… that sounds okay, I guess. What happened earlier?” He looks entirely too confused, and Ned couldn’t put it past him to have forgotten everything he’d just said. It’s encouraging that the slur seems to have gotten better than earlier.

“You said you fell, remember?” As it turns out, Peter does _not_ remember.

“What? When?” he questions. “I don’t… No, I don’t... How?”

“You never really said much, dude. All I know is you scared the shit out of me when you crawled through your bedroom window, and then you seemed really out of it, so I brought you here to hide from May.”

“Wait, what!?” Peter’s definitely distressed now, though Ned couldn’t blame him. He’d probably react the same if he found out someone knew a secret as big as this and he didn’t even remember sharing it.

“Yes, I know you’re Spider-Man, and we are _definitely_ discussing that when you’re better,” he confirmed before Peter could waste any more energy freaking out or wondering. “We’ve already covered this even if you don’t remember! I’d rather focus on taking care of you now, if you don’t mind.”

Peter still looks concerned, but he’s not so thoroughly distressed now and that’s a good step forward. Time to get back to work. Peter interrupts him first.

“…Oh. I have a healing factor. I heal way faster than normal.”

“Awesome! You have _no_ idea how worried I was about hiding this for like weeks, man,” he admitted. This is so cool! Peter should’ve just told him about all of this sooner so they could geek out about it together, but _noooo_. “My parents are out for another few days, so my apartment is your apartment until they’re back, but you’re the one who has to make excuses to May next time. I can’t deal with that stress. I don’t know how _you_ do it.”

On the plus side to this whole situation, taking care of a concussion doesn’t call for much. Unfortunately, the signs point to Peter having more than just a minor concussion. A lot of it is questionable because Ned wasn’t there to witness the concussion, and Peter, of course, can’t remember it. It doesn’t help that Ned can’t trust that he’ll truthfully answer questions about his medical history as long as he keeps looping back to forgetting that Ned knows about Spider-Man. He suggests going to an emergency room at first, but Peter is adamant about avoiding it.

Ned tries to argue the point for a while, but not successfully. Peter’s not wrong, when he thinks about it. Of course a medical professional would notice something weird about Spider-Man’s physiology if they looked more than superficially.

Peter’s eyes have been slipping closed throughout the evening, only to snap open when Ned raises his voice a little to rouse him. In his state, there’s not much to do but rest, so Ned eventually ends the conversation, content to bustle around the apartment handling his usual chores and looking for quiet distractions while his friend rests. He turns a watchful eye to Peter every so often to make sure he’s still propped up as he should be and to make absolutely sure he’s still breathing. He even slips a spare blanket over Peter one time when he starts shivering, but other than that, he keeps to himself in fear of waking him from his already restless sleep.

It’s close to nine when Ned decides he’s waited long enough to make a decision. Peter’s ribs were slowly healing when he hesitantly shifted the blanket to check, the bruises fading close to a brownish yellow already, but he wasn’t going to be able to hide the confusion from the concussion well enough to go home for bed, and Ned honestly thinks it would be cruel to force his friend to make the trip back home in this condition. It doesn’t help that Peter’s woken up twice already and deliriously spilled the Spider-Man secret—along with several more benign but embarrassing tales he’d never have shared with Ned if he were in his right mind—to anyone who cared to listen. He’s just lucky Ned already found out about Spider-Man earlier today and no one else is around to hear his detached rambling. Ned files away some of the muttered confessions for later teasing; he tries to be a good friend, but he’s always down for good-natured teasing.

Ned ducks into his bedroom in case Peter wakes and pulls a repeat performance while he’s supposed to be out cold. He doesn’t have to scroll far through his contacts before he hits May Parker, and he doesn’t hesitate before dialing.

“Hey, May!” Well, he’s got a decently strong start going for him. “Peter uhhh… fell asleep on my couch. And I didn’t want to wake him up! Cool if he sleeps over?” He can’t help a hint of nervousness bleeding through, but it turns out that he has no reason to worry.

May never really minds mid-week sleepovers, not after their huge role in helping Peter recover from Ben’s death last year, so it’s an easy conversation all things considered. Almost the second he’s hanging up and placing his phone on his nightstand, someone is calling Peter’s phone. Ned makes a dash for the backpack, tossing clothes and books out in his search for the sound. He finally finds it and mutes the ringtone, tossing a glance at the couch to check that his friend is still soundly sleeping.

He looks at the screen—ignoring a multitude of text notifications he assumes Peter wouldn’t want him to read closely—and is nervous when he sees that Happy is the caller. He knows Happy is the intern liaison for Stark Industries who basically never responds to Peter, according to several lunchtime conversations. As far as he knows, Happy _never_ calls, but somehow he’s chosen today of all days to— _oh_. Duh. Of _course_ the Stark internship isn’t real! It’s an excuse to go out and be Spider-Man. This is probably important then. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and hide his giddy excitement and swipes to answer the call.

“Finally!” an annoyed man’s voice immediately exclaims. “I’ve been trying to get in contact for hours, kid. I’m missing your report, and Tony’s freaking out about the vitals reports from today.”

He didn’t expect someone so… angry. Plus, he isn’t completely sure the Stark internship is a cover-up; Peter will kill him if he outs his secret identity and it turns out Happy just wanted some boring spreadsheet. He takes too long to answer and his attempt to respond is bowled over by the exasperated voice again.

“Are you there or not!? I’ve stopped him from taking the express route to your apartment for this long, and I’m _done_. Either answer me or _you_ can deal with explaining to your aunt why Iron Man is at her door!” Ned takes his cue faster this time with the confirmation that Peter’s important enough for Tony Stark to consider personally visiting him, in the Iron Man suit no less.

“H-hello, Happy, uh—s-sir… Peter’s… umm…” He suddenly misses making the call to May. _That_ was much easier. He’s normally good with people, but this is someone who probably works with the _Avengers_. He’s way out of his depth here. “He’s, uhh… asleep! He’s asleep now, so…” He trails off.

“Who the hell are you?” The man only sounds more hostile when he hears his voice instead of Peter’s.

“I’m N-Ned,” he stutters out his own name. “Peter’s friend?”

“Just put Peter on the phone, kid,” Happy orders. “What are you doing answering someone else’s phone anyway?”

He huffs in a deep breath and makes an active effort to rein in the stutter.

“Can you call back tomorrow? Peter’s not available tonight.”

It turns out he didn’t need to turn the man away, though, because suddenly Peter’s at his side, grabbing for the phone with one hand with a shaky thumb’s up on the other.

“ _Heeeyyyyy_ , Happy!” Ned knows him well enough to see how hard he’s working to keep his voice level and close to normal. This Happy knows him so little that he falls for it. Judging from Peter’s end of the conversations—a summary of what he’d apparently done as Spider-Man that day and a promise to report on time in the future—the man hadn’t paused for even a second to ask how Peter was or if something was wrong.

After only a minute and a half, the call is over. Ned sees Peter take a second to glance at his notifications, but he obviously doesn’t find anything worth responding to because he almost immediately tosses the phone back into his backpack. He grabs Ned’s hand and Ned lets himself be led clumsily to the couch Peter was sleeping on. They take a moment to arrange themselves, Ned making sure to allow only the gentlest contact he can muster with Peter to avoid bringing him anymore pain than he was already dealing with.

Ned takes the liberty of flipping on the television, dropping the volume to almost zero, and tuning into a home renovation show. It’s something boring enough that it won’t keep Peter awake, but the background noise had always helped lull him to sleep when he stayed over. Ned’s theory was that the difference in street noise around their apartments was just too different for Peter to relax without help. He himself used to need near complete silence to sleep, but he’s gotten used to the minimal white noise after countless sleepovers with Peter.

Peter’s posture was tense, not ideal for falling asleep. Without thinking much about it, he slides his hand across the top of the couch until it roams into Peter’s hair, lightly mussing it up in hopes of distracting him from the discomfort he’s surely feeling. He sets a simple pattern around his scalp and zones out watching a young couple deliberate on which house to choose.

They eventually fall asleep like that, propped against the back of the couch together with his fingers still in Peter’s hair and Peter using his shoulder as a makeshift pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably come back and edit this at some point because this is pretty rough, and I'm sorry, but I lost a lot of motivation for this mini-series over time. Thanks to everyone who stuck with it even though I took way too long to write this last part! (I'm probably sticking to one-shots from now on. I don't know how some of you do this whole multi-chapter thing. It's EXHAUSTING.)
> 
> As far as some liberties I've taken: we don't see THAT much MCU Ned, so I just decided his family is wealthy because you know what? Ned buys Legos; he's not a poor boy. Also, it's just plain convenient for the vague plot.


End file.
